wingedbeast | Entries tagged with altertoon

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.
___

Dr. Pehg's trained eye took in the destruction as she ran. She saw no obvious footprints or differentiation. It seemed less like an animal and more like a miniature tornado had made this path. Then, she came up to the tree.

For one moment, all her intellect worked just to tell her that there was no logical hope.

It wasn't just the hole in the tree. It was that tree was still supporting itself. In order a tree this tall and this wide to support itself with just that much of the edges, the strength of the wood had to rival the best that metallurgists could accomplish. What reasonable chance could someone have against a force with the kind of strength it took to cause that tunnel... for seemingly no reason.

She could not sanely imagine a means of defeating the monster that was named for, but bore no legitimate resemblance to the Tasmanian devil.

"Taz still hungry." The voice came from behind her, baring little to no resemblance to what she knew of Elmer Fudd.

In that moment, she had a choice to make.

She slowly turned to see the blacked, bruised, and bleeding body of Elmer Fudd operating on its own.

"Me want porky meat."

If the lunatic song is all that there is, then it's a big song, encompassing many tunes. And, she'd find her own, happier, melody.

"Smile, darn ya, smile," she sang.
"You know this old world is a great world after all
Smile, darn ya, smile
And right away watch Lady Luck pay you a call"

With more grace than most assumed her capable, Dr. Pehg spun closer to the Tasmanian Devil, to pull it into a dance.

For reasons even it couldn't fathom, the Tasmanian Devil could not resist.

"Things are never black as they are painted
Time for you and joy to get acquainted
Make life worthwhile
Come on and smile, darn ya, smile"

She pressed the beast against one of the remaining supports of the tree.

The beast grew angry and raised a hand to strike at Dr. Pehg. She ducked under the wounded clumsy blow and, with a quick hand, redirected it around until the beast had struck that support.

Before the beast could strike, she moved onto the next verse.

"Smile, darn ya, smile
For there is nothing that you cannot overcome
Smile, darn ya, smile
And where the clouds appear you soon will find the sun"

As she sang, she gently pulled the beast in a straight line.

"Life is really only what you make it
Stand right up and show them you can take it
Make life worthwhile
Come on and smile, darn ya, smile"

She gave one bow, then stepped to the side. "A the-a a the-a a the-a that's all, you son of a bitch!"

As the shadow enveloped him, the Tasmanian Devil had the time to look up and say "eep" before the tree trunk came down and crushed him.

Dr. Pehg was not normally given to superstitious behavior. But, sanity had done her no good. Paranoia moved her to move rocks and dirt with her bare hands. It took her the better part of an hour, but she managed to bury what, of the body, stuck out from under the tree, then weigh even that down with heavy rocks.

After that, it would still be a while, yet, before the helicopter would come. So, she did the only thing she could think of to honor the people she'd known so briefly. She collected all their notes and their research.

Yes, including Elmer Fudd's research. Whatever else he was in his life, he was actually onto something. If only he didn't have to provide evidence like that. It occurred to her that she may have been wrong about that, that the whole ordeal had made her retreat into delusion. If so, there wasn't much she could do about it right now.

Carefully, she collected the notes together into a remaining foot locker. Finally, she went to collect Mr. Fudd's sound equipment. As she was ready to detach it, it came to life.

"Why for you bury me in the cold, cold ground?" came the voice.

The End?

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.
___

Dr.s Duhch and Pehg looked at the radio in pieces.

"You know anything about engineering?"

"I've a re-ah a re-ah a re-ah repaired a few radios."

Dr. Pehg immediately set to sorting the parts for reassembly and Dr. Duhch set to fetching replacement parts.
___

Dr. Bunnet surprised even himself with his turn of speed as he ran to the lodging. Maybe it wasn't that surprising, considering all the times he had to rely upon quickness of foot and wit to survive his youth. With a similar speed, he brought three footlockers to block the door.

"Ooh ah!"

Dr. Bunnet paused in his next thought to antagonize the thing that used to be Mr. Fudd. "I hear you knocking, but you can't come in," he said in a singsong voice.

"Ooh Eee Rabbit ah pbthth!"

"I don't speak the lingo, but I get the gist," whispered the entemologist to himself.

He needed to keep Elmer distracted, angry, off balance. He was actually good at that. And, Dr. Bunnet looked in his bag, then at the refridgerator. Maybe Elmer's ideas about the lunacy at the heart of all action was correct, because Dr. Bunnet had an idea that was total lunacy.
___

Dr. Pehg's hands moved with unreasonable speed. "A pe-ah a pe-ah a pe-ah practice makes perfect," she said to herself.

"Will it work?"

From the outside, they heard the angry sound, "Ooh Eee Rabbit ah pbthth!"

"No time to tetht partth."
___

The Tazmanian Devil ripped the door from its hinges and tossed it aside, ready to storm in and kill that "Rabbit!"

Instead, Dr. Bunnet rushed out with the small dining table in hand. He set right before the beast.

"Ima cooked you a wild turkey surprise. You a stay right a here." There was barely enough of Elmer Fudd remaining to wonder, in confusion, at the offensively stereotyped accent.

That confusion lasted long enough for Dr. Bunnet to lay out a plate containing turkey coldcut wrapped around... something, and capped off with a turkey frill.

"Now eat-a up while it's-a still sizzling." It actually was still sizzling, too.

The part that was Elmer Fudd wasn't strong enough to resist the Devil's urge to consume. The monster picked up the food and shoved it all into his mouth.

Dr. Bunnet jumped back into the lodging and behind a wall just in time.
___

"Thith ith Dr. Duhch in the Fudd Rethearch Fathility. Need emergenthy evacuathion, over."

"This is Captain Lin, confirming emergency evacuation. Situation report needed."

Just at that moment, an explosion shook through the storage shed, causing specimen bottles to rattle.

"What was that? Over." asked Captain Lin.

"Mr. Fudd hath had a mental break. He'th attacking uth. Need immediate evacuathion! Over!"

"On my way, over and out."
___

Dr. Bunnet looked around the wall.

Elmer Fudd, no, definately not Elmer Fudd anymore. The monster that Elmer had called The Tasmanian Devil stood at the table, glaring at Dr. Bunnet. There was nothing left to confuse. Only anger and hate.

Dr. Bunnet attempted to run.
___

The radio went dead.

"There. That'th done. Thoughtth on what we do, now?"

"A we-ah a we-ah a we-ah We survive. That shouldn't be too a de-ah a de-ah a de-ah difficult."

" I ooh waah hoo arr!" The rage in that string of syllabuls was immense. Language could not contain the hatred.

The sound was followed by Dr. Bunnet, flying, backwards and head first, through the door to the storage, and landing in a bloody human mess.

Dr.s Duhch and Pehg rushed to his aid.

"Don't waste your time. I'm a gonner."

"No, Bugth, you can make it. You're a thurvivor."

"Not this time, Doc."

Dr. Duhch ripped his own shurt to make a bandage to staunch the bleeding. "No, I've thpent too much time with you to let it end like thith!"

Dr. Bunnet grabbed Dr. Duhch's collar and pulled him in. "Look, Doc. I ain't got much time. Both of you gotta listen."

Dr. Pehg looked down, lower on Dr. Bunnet, then flinched. Few things could make her do that. She placed a hand on Dr. Duhch's shoulder.

"He ain't human no more. He's that thing, the Tasmanian Devil that he wrote about. But, there's good news."

"What poththible good newth could there be?"

"He can be hoit. He can be hoit. You can win. And, that music he talks about, the song of lunacy. I can hear it. You can, too. It ain't just destruction. If you hear it right, it's... merry." The body of Dr. Bunnet went limp.

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.
___

The book was the anthropological equivalent of a train wreck. All night long, Dr. Pehg wanted to look away, but couldn't.

"A the-ah a the-ah a the-ah The American Indians have long known the rabbit to be the symbol of calm, quick witted trickster that turns your foolishness against you.

"A he-ah a he-ah a he-ah He's insulted and oversimplified every culture he can imagine. How could he possibly justify any of these a ke-ah a ke-ah a ke-ah conclusions?"

"Flip to the back, doc. There's a bit about what he calls 'noetic science'."

Dr. Pehg looked to the back of the tomb and, indeed there it was. Noetic science, so said the book, was the use of intuition as a method of knowledge equal to what the book called "observational science".

Dr. Pehg couldn't even stutter at that. She couldn't imagine the first word that would be used to describe that.
___

Elmer Fudd spent the night in his office, in communion with the spirit. This was the being that he had theorized to find here, the one based on his noetic scientific understanding of the tasmanian devils. He'd expected hunger and anger. He hadn't expected wisdom.

"Respect ah pbthth!" It was... simple wisdom. "Awoohol!" In some ways, it was a wisdom so simple that humans couldn't understand it. Rather, as in keeping with Mr. Fudd's greater theory, it was that the sane couldn't understand it.
___

Dr. Pehg finally shut the book, a dazed look on her face only partly due to the lack of sleep. That someone in the world actually believed this was one thing. That he had written a book was another. That, appearantly, other people had purchased that book, read it, and, seemingly, believed it enough to write a forward for a new eddition...

She reminded herself that there was a reason she had read this book. It wasn't to arouse anger or pity for Mr. Fudd, it was to be able to deal with him. Whatever else the book may have done to Dr. Pehg's remaining faith in humanity, it did give her some clue about the mind of Mr. Fudd.

"A he-ah a he-ah a he-ah have you read this, Dr. Bunnet? All the way through?"

"I read a few bits," said Dr. Bunnet, absent minded as he checked over his notes to compare seasonal insect behaviors. "Once I looked at that no-eat-ick science part, I wasn't going to read no more. Besides, I been on the receiving end of enough of Mr. Fudds philow-sow-fee."

"I fe-ah i fe-ah i fe-ah If you don't mind, I'm going to ask Mr. Fudd something and I may need a we-ah a we-ah a we-ah a witness."
___

Elmer Fudd strode confidently from his office, his deerhunter jacket and cap done neatly and ready for purpose. There was something he needed to check.

Truths were opening up. Ah ee awoo! Truths that words were clumsy things.

In his thoughtful reverie, he walked right into Dr.s Pehg mmm porky and Bunnet rrr rabbit. "Pawdon me, Dr.s"

"A ne-ah a ne-ah a ne-ah No, pardon me, Mr. Fudd. I have a ke-ah a ke-ah a ke-ah a question about your research."

Mr. Fudd stepped around the plump Dr. Pehg and continued his path. "Fowwow and ask, Dr."

"I re-ah i re-ah i re-ah I read your book."

"That thing?"

The tender Dr. Bunnety visibly startled at the quick dismissal of Fudd's book.

"A we-ah a we-ah a we-ah what research are you doing here? What is your a the-ah a the-ah a the-ah theory?"

Elmer went too his foot locker and yanked off the lock. He pulled out clothing and items and keepsakes with regard neither for items or the area around him.

"A me-ah a me-ah a me-ah Mr. Fudd? What is your theory regarding Tasmania?"

Elmer pulled out a notebook and tossed it to shut up little pig satisfy her while he continued his search. She continued to speak, but that didn't matter. Dr. Bunnet knelt down and spoke, but that didn't matter, either.

Mr. Fudd found something that... did it matter? The book was Atlas Shrugged. The pages were warped from repeated, thorough rereadings. This was once a font of wisdom, but this time, flipping through the pages he found...

In a fit of anger, he ripped the book in two. "Too many wowds" was the only explanation he felt necessary.

Still, there was one way he knew of value, one way to live his truest life.
___

Mr. Fudd had been ignoring Dr. Pehg's questions and Dr. Bunnet's entreaties. Then, as though he were lost in another world, he stood and left the lodging.

Dr.s Pehg and Bunnet shared a worried look, then rushed to follow.

Dr. Bunnet called out, "Hey, Elmer. Where ya going?"

Mr. Fudd paused long enough to turn and look at Dr. Bunnet. "Be vewy vewy quiet. I'm hunting."

"Eh... Whatcha hunting?"

Mr. Fudd answered with only his stuttered, slightly raspy laugh, then turned back to his trek into the wilderness.

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.
___

Dr. Pehg started her work with preliminaries. She took an inventory of both the available equipment and the available specimens, confirming both personally. In part, this was her standard activity in any new lab or setting, be personally sure of everything. It was too easy to blame any malfunctioning equipment shoddy personelle on the woman being clumsy or just emotional.

In part, this was to avoid thinking about that book. In a way that book, and the ideas contained within, are what allowed her this opportunity. She was hesitant to cast any aspersions upon its contents. But, based on what she'd seen of Mr. Fudd, she hesitated to imagine that there of which she would approve.

She noted, upon the doublecheck of the storage, that a large part of the shed had been devoted what appeared to be basic construction equipment. There was also what must have been Mr. Fudd's hunting supplies. She could possibly have allowed that to go unchecked, as not relevant to her own field. But, she'd had too many experiences of potentially valuable equipment being mislabeled or misplaced for just that reason.

Besides, that book was waiting for her the moment she wasn't busy.
___

Mr. Fudd listened and listened again. "Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!" What else could it be but absolute proof? "Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!" There were no native people on Tasmania. How could there be? "Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!" No native animal could have done that. "Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!" It could only be the very spirit he theorized.

The knocking on the door stopped his reverie. "Entew."

Dr. Pehg opened the door and poked her head in. "Ex-eah ex-eah ex-ah excuse me, Mr. Fudd."

Mr. Fudd perked up. "Have you wead my book?"

"A ne-ah a ne-ah a ne-ah not yet. I wanted to talk about the a de-ah a de-ah a de-ah dynamite in the storage?"

"But, you haven't wead my book yet? Pwease do, post haste, Dr. Pehg."

"A be-ah a be-ah a be-ah About that dynamite? We have potentially volatile explosives where we regularly work, Mr. Fudd."

"They are new expwosives, not yet vowatiwe. I'm stiww considewing Tasmania fow devewopement. Weave it whewe it is, Dr. Pehg. Out of sight out of mind. You focus on weading that book!"

"A be-ah a be-ah -"

"You awe dismissed, Doctow."
___

Dr. Pehg gripped her hand into a fist. She'd run into this personality type before. Mr. Fudd was obviously the kind of man who mistook statements like "you make it happen" for strength of personality and leadership skills.

Unfortunately, identifying the personality type only identified the riddle. How do you get through to someone like that?

Well, she could do two things. Firstly, she could do a personal assessment of that dynamite, clarifying that it was properly stored and not leaking.

Secondly, well, secondly was that she would read that damned book.
___

Mr. Fudd shook his head. These intellectuals were dealing with the wrong priorities. That must be a consequence of the ivory tower educational system.

"Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!"

He'd have to go collect further recordings.

"Ah ee wooah rabbit ah pbthth!"

"This wiww change the wowld."

"Ah eh wooah porky no believe pbthth!"
___

True to the word of Dr.s Duhch and Bunnet, dinner consisted of rice and beans along with a tin of spinach, heated in the can and then eaten directly there from. True to Dr. Pehg's word, she ate without difficulty, complaint, or polite restraint.

The book was the part that was hard to swallow.

"A te-ah a te-ah a te-ah To the simple people of rural Mexico," Dr. Pehg read aloud, around a mouth full of spinach. "I a ke-ah a ke-ah a ke-ah collected rattlesnake venom samples from both sides of the US/Mexico boreder. I a ne-ah a ne-ah a ne-ah never met anybody who would want to be called 'simple'."

"Keep reading, doc. It gets worse."

"A the-ah a the-ah a the-ah the mouse is a symbol of the good natured a ke-ah a ke-ah a ke-ah criminal?!? Akin to England's Robin Hood?"
___

"But, suwewy, once she undewstands the noetic twuth of intuitive weasoning-"

"No believe. Eee ou no give."

"Wespect? Yes, they wiww give me wespect. Once I pwoove my theowy, they wiww wespect me. I wiww make them!"

"Ah ee ouha pbthth!" The sounds only were only on the edge of becoming words. Instead of definitions, they had feelings. Frustration, gnawing need, desire so primal that it couldn't be contained by even such a word as "hunger".

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.
___

Dr. Duhch took Dr. Pehg to the largest of the three storage sheds, which was actually used for storage.

"Is a the-ah a the-ah a the-ah that a regular occurance?"

Dr. Duhch sighed. "It's getting more and more regular. He hath hith reathonth, but they aren't mine to tell.

"Another thing about working here. Privathy ith a matter of rethpect more than wallth."

Dr. Pehg understood and nodded to that, allowing Dr. Duhch to go onto the next topic.

"We have very few whole thpethimenth. And, we keep them pretherved in formaldehyde. That keepth the organth pretherved for thtudy but it may dilute the venomth and toxinth that are your thpethialty.

"That said, we have pretherved inthecth and pretherved venom glandth for you to thtudy. Of couthe, Bugth and I will be glad to share noteth ath a profethional courtethy."

"Is a the-ah a the-ah a the-ah this difficult for you as a vegetarian?"

"It wath at firtht, when Mr. Fudd inthithted upon shooting fresh thpethimenth. But, I do thee the nethethity of uthing that which we have. Eventually, I convinthed him that killing thpethimenth wath unnethethary and counterproductive to our thtudy."

"If a ye-ah a ye-ah a ye-ah you don't mind, why are you and Dr. Bunnet vegetarians?"

"For mythelf, it goeth back to when I buthed tableth at a high end rethtaraunt. One time, I looked at a duck a l'orange and I thought that thith thing could be thomebody'th brother.

"I know. It theemth daffy to make thuch a thmall moment have thuch a big impact. But, there it ith.

"Bugth'th reathonth are hith own."
___
"Elmer, I think I need to tell you something."

Elmer Fudd hunched over his desk and looked at Dr. Bunnety with a baleful, sidelong gaze. "I thought I towd you to get out."

"And, I'm telling you that I got something to say."

"Oh, you said it. You have pwoof in fwont of you and you wefuse to bewieve in me. What mowe could you possibwy have to say?"

Dr. Bunnet narrowed his eyes on Mr. Fudd and stepped closer to say, "People called your dad 'Egghead.'"

Mr. Fudd shot to his feet with a force that knocked his chair back. "You do not get to tawk about my father!"

"Oh yes I do!" Dr. Bunnet poked Mr. Fudd with a pale finger. "Because, when I was a little whipper snapper, scrounging and steeling food just to survive, 'Egghead' shot at me over and over again. It were a exercise in wits just to come outta that alive and do you know what he had the gall to tell me?"

Mr. Fudd hadn't so much calmed as he had frozen in his anger. "That he was a spowtsman."

"Yeah. There weren't a hint on his face that he understood that he was talking about snuffing out my life. He just thought I didn't understand."

"He didn't get any bettew at the end. He just got... wowse."

Dr. Bunnet patted the millionare on the shoulder. "Yeah. But, I ain't done yet.

"I struggled to survive. But, I also struggled to learn. I didn't get no fancy schooling that you probably got, Elmer. I went to the libraries and I sat and, when I weren't desperate to eat, I were desperate to cobble myselft together a edumacation. And, I got it. I studdied and I got to take them tests and I earned my degree and my fellowship and my doctorate. None of it were easy, Fudd.

"Then, you come in and, 'cause you was rich and successful, you thought you could just own this field like you own a mansion and a yacht. It were a dia-bow-lickal joke.

"What I'm sayin', Elmer, is that I have every reason to be angry wit' ya. But, I don't hate ya. When I look atcha, I see some'm I don' wanna see. I see the parts of yer dad that I actually pitty.

"I'm tryin' to tell you that you don't have to wind up like your dad. This obsession, it ain't good for you. Maybe, just maybe, you need a bit of distance... maybe even some of that talk the-wrappy. You got options, Elmer. You got options."

Elmer Fudd carefully righted his chair and sat down. "Thank you fow youw considewed wowds, Dr. Bunnet. I wiww take what I bewieve to be appwopwiate action."

"I guess that's all I can ask."

"Thank you again. You awe dismissed."

Dr. Bunnet took a breath at that, then left the room. Mr. Fudd narrowed his eyes at the door behind him.

Disclaimer 1: Looney Tunes, the characters, their names, and their likenesses are owned by Warner Brothers and this indicates no claim upon their intellectual property.

Disclaimer 2: I know next to nothing about Tasmania or how actual research facilities work.

___

The living quarters were in the smallest of the three storage units. An individual's living space consisted of a cot, space on the wall for pictures, and a foot locker. The communal eating area included a potbellied stove, one ice box, one additional storage box for nonperishable foods, and one square table.

Dr.s Duhch and Bunnet worked on their respective dishes with rhythm that avoided potential collisions.

"This, here's, going to be our fancy bank-ooh-it for you showin' up, doc. Things ain't always going to be this nice."

"For the motht part, it'll be rithe and beanth with vegthtableth out of a can."

"I ke-ah I ke-ah I ke-ah I can eat most anything and in large amounts."

"That's good, doc. Most dames make a show outta eatin' dainty."

"A ye-ah A ye-ah A ye-ah You would, too, if your economic and social standing demanded it."

Dr. Pehg immediately doubted herself. That may have been a confrontational tone. She would have to live with these men for six months. She didn't want to shy away from fights or seek them.

Dr.s Duhch and Bunnet paused to look at each other a moment.
___
Within his office, Elmer Fudd, the self-titled doctor of socio-psychological-crypto-zoology, listened intently to his recordings of wilderness sounds. He listened to the sounds over and over again, using a custsom-made contraption to modulation for higher and lower pitches.

"Those two wascawwy intewectuaws towd methat these awe aww individuaw cweatuwes. Maybe the individuaw voices awen't the pwace to wook. Maybe, its in the cowwective that I wiww find it."

He slowed down the replay and listened intently, taking each separate sound as a part of a total whole. He was certain he heard it, in the combination of a few sounds.

Taken together, there was a sound that could have been a raspy, angry voice. "Raaabbiiiit"
___
"That'th... thomething that we hadn't thought of."

"Yeah, thanks, doc."

Dr. Bunnet placed a plate in front of Dr. Pehg. It contained an herb-roasted carrot as well as something that consisted of rice and long cut vegetables wrapped in some kind of leaf.

That wasn't what Dr. Pehg had expected. But, her readiness to have a potentially necessary argument wasn't a desire to create them unnecessarily. So, she chose to change the subject.

"A bee-ah A bee-ah A bee-ah About this Elmer Fudd. What's his degree and what's his research?"

"Hith degree ith in buthineth management. Until a few yearth back, he wath a very thuckthethful thtock and bond trader."

"He fund this stat-ee-an so he can use us for his puh-see-ooh-doh-science. In exchange, we get to do our own research."

"And ye-ah ye-ah ye-ah you have trouble getting admittance into labs and grants, too."

"You probably know why, doc. Motht rethearch labth don't thee the driven, careful, and knowledgtheable thientithtth that we are. Not when they look at thith little black zoologitht." Dr. Duhch motioned to himself.

"Or this little poor boy who passed the right tests but didn't take no classes because he never had the money to go to college to learn the right pro-noun-see-ah-tye-ons."

"Ore-ah Ore-ah Ore-ah Or this woman."

"Tho we do what we mutht to do what we love."

The three toasted that with their mugs of water.

The door burst in to slam against the aluminium siding. "I've got it. Come with me. The mystewies of mankind awe about to be sowved!"

( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

Submitted for your consideration. Donald Jacobs, a doer of odd jobs who survives on the margins. A man with a thousand tiny stains on his soul and very little glimmers. In his work, he has stolen the odd dollar, but kept himself from stealing anything important until he found something he couldn't pass up.

"Where are you going with that?" asked the old man, one Walter Grey.

Donald held it behind his back. "Taking what?" Already excuses ran through his mind. The old man doesn't know what a gold mine he has. He won't miss one little-

"Put him down," Walter gave as an offhand command. "He doesn't like being squeezed."

Donald thought to deny again, then placed the small pet on the table. It made a noise that was nothing like what Donald had heard him make earlier.

Walter didn't even raise from his chair. "He likes his aquarium. Go ahead and get it."

Donald froze, unsure of what to do. "What?"

"I'm not stupid, son," explained Walter. "He's yours now, you might as well treat him right... Well! Go get it!."

Donald hurried off to collect the aquarium, nothing more than a glass box with a rock and some twigs. When he came back, he asked "Is this it?"

Walter shrugged. "He likes it. You heard what he can do when he's happy."

"You've heard him? Then why leave him in a dingy glass box? You could-"

"I could what? Put him on stage? Show him on vaudeville and work my way up to Broadway?" Walter laughed. "I tried, kid. I spent most of the thirties trying... I lost everything trying."

Donald looked over at... the pet. He didn't know how long this creature lasted, but definitely not that long.

"Oh, he's older than the both of us," Walter answered Donald's unasked question. "I found him at a construction site. He'd been buried for God knows how long. It was The Depression and I didn't even think to ask it. I heard him and I had dollar signs in my eyes... Blinded me to everything else."

Donald looked around at the old man's unimpressive home. "Even during the Depression, people would pay to see this."

Walter chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh, they paid. And, when he just sat there, as sad faced and as dull as he is right now, they demanded their money back. I was lucky they only thought I tried to pull a scam. They could have had me locked up."

Fear crawled over Donald's face, but he drew on his good sense. "That was then. People these days will pay millions to put him in a movie. They'll work around-"

"He'll never sing for them!" Walter shouted. The small pet responded only with a sound every bit as rough and dreary as his appearance would suggest. "You'll go mad trying to make him! For money, for love, for just convincing yourself you haven't dreamed all of it, he'll never sing for anybody but you... not until it's time for him to move on."

"Then why keep him?" Donald asked. "Why do you torture yourself all this time?"

Walter smiled. "He still sings, boy. He used to sing for me. Now he sings for you. If he was still mine, I'd keep him and be grateful. Don't throw him away. Take my advice, just enjoy the happy song."

Donald looked over at the green, lumpy thing. It's appearance suggested nothing impressive or out of the ordinary. But, in it, Donald saw wealth, fame, fortune, women. He saw all of the American Dream and more. "You gave up," Donald declared. "You could have had it all and you gave up."

"I gave up on the quick buck and getting rich quick. Quick never came and I learned that I'd die of old age waiting for it to happen. So, I got a job, a wife, a family, all of the real American Dream. And, in some quiet moments, with a bit of privacy, I had joyful music that made me smile. That's what you have, right there is joyful music to make you smile."

Donald sneered down at the old man. "You gave up. You could have had it all. I'll show you. I'll get him to sing for the cameras. And, you? You'll still just be an old man who gave up."

Walter sighed and shook his head. It was like looking into the past. Nobody could have told him otherwise, either. "Fine. Go. Best of luck to you."

Donald scooped up the slimy, lumpy thing with the smooth, golden voice and deposited it in the aquarium. He thought about saying some kind of goodbye to the old man, but just left instead.

When Donald left, Walter picked up an old photo and began to sing. "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime doll." It was the song he was humming to himself when he caught the ear of a pretty lady who could swear she'd heard the song but didn't remember the words.

Donald looked left and right, shielding the aquarium from view.

"Send me a kiss by wire. Darling my heart's on fire." This was the song he'd sing when his children really were children, keeping them smiling at bath time.

Donald slipped into an alley to avoid detection.

"Don't refuse me or, darling, you'll lose me, and then I'll be left alone."

Donald felt ear's prying all around him. He moved quickly on his toes, hunched over, to protect his new goldmine.

"Telephone and tell me I'm your man." Towards the end, when his wife was losing herself to dementia, she could still remember this song and smile. The last of the tune from his lips, Walter slumped down, dropping the photo of his family, the first picture of them all in their new home. In the corner of the photo, in a new glass aquarium, there was the sad looking frog.

Donald tip-toed along. Somewhere, in some nearby apartment, someone tapped the keys on a piano.

Is he a trickster? Is he a muse? Is he a god of music? Perhaps he's something beyond human imagination. Maybe, just maybe, he is just a singing frog. Only he knows for certain, and he won't talk. Is he a blessing or a curse? That is a decision made by those souls who come into possession of Michigan J. Frog.